Prisoner
by Tawnyblood
Summary: The time frame is 1961 to 1989. The tragedy is the Berlin Wall. The hope is a small Canadian blonde. The one hurting is Gilbert. Inspired by the song Prisoner sung by Len Kagamine, Vocaloid.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: This is probably going to be the last one in a long time where I go and kill somebody in my stories. Or imply it. The next 'chapter' is actually going to be a author's note (Just letting you know now) where I point out all the references that I dropped and the symbolic representation of different things. Yeah, Lord of the Flies has been getting to my head. Seriously. This was inspired/based off of the song Prisoner sung by Len Kagamine (Vocaloid). I used some of the lyrics, so those don't belong to me~ Oh! On another note, I just learned that my Spanish teacher's husband is a special agent in the FBI. She wasn't joking by the way.  
Warnings: Semi-AU, Gilbert-centric, character death (implied), strong language, and I think that's all_

_

* * *

_

He obediently walked to his doom, wrists cut up and cuffed behind his back, a cocked and loaded gun pointed at his head. Dull red eyes watched the ground and lead legs dragged themselves along the ground as the enemies from all sides ushered him forward nervously. One pushed open the door, stealing a quick glance inside, before dragging the defeated man forward and into the room. The door shut behind him, temporarily throwing him into darkness before dim lights switched on.

A tall man looked up from where he was pouring vodka into his glass cup and smiled. "You're here! I'm been looking forward to this for quite some time~" He finished pouring the liquid and poured another one for his guest before picking both in one meaty hand. In the other hand, he twirled around the small silver key to the cuffs. "I'm very happy to have you here Prussia, you know that don't you?" He sings as he approaches.

Pale and bitten lips pulled back into a snarl as Gilbert shows the shackles to the taller male, listening to the clicking of the key and clinking of the cuffs releasing him. "Hello Russia…" He grounded out between gnashing his teeth together, rough hands rubbing his chaffed wrists. "I'm… happy to be here…"

* * *

There was nothing for him to do. Correction, there was nothing that he could do. It was difficult for him to even go to the bathroom to relieve himself without worrying about spotting an obsessive Russian watching him from the corners. Something the nation of Prussia soon discovered though was that Russia would hardly come to visit him if he was cooped and locked up inside this tiny room. Which didn't really do too much to comfort him since the place was pretty much his prison, with the lock being on the outside and the only times he can wander outside is when it's the scheduled time for his break.

But that didn't stop him from trying.

Oh no, if anything it fueled his want and need to be amongst his people. He tried everything he could to get out. Clobbering the poor Latvian over the head when he opened up that door, trying to make compromises with Russia for his freedom, and everything else in between. Nothing, absolutely nothing, worked.

And so Prussia was forced to try scaling down the wall again.

But today was different, he soon realized as he poked his head out of the window to check for guards with guns. His eyesight may be getting worse and worse, but he was positive that all the few guards that were supposed to be patrolling were missing. Where are they? What are they do— Oh, so that's what they're doing.

A smirk was on his face as he watched them converse (Rather irritably might he add) to a young male with blonde hair. He pondered silently to himself about the topic that they could be talking about as he secured the toilet-paper-and-blankets rope (Don't laugh, it was pretty embarrassing telling Ukraine that he had 'diarrhea.') to something solidly attached to the wall. And just when he was about to throw the rope out of the window, something caught his attention.

"You have to let him out! Take down that wall! It's not fair to the people! It's not fair to him!" Somebody yelled from down on the ground.

Leaning out of the window, rope wrapped around his arm, he saw one of the guards rudely shove the shorter male out of the way as he marched back to his post. The rest of the guards followed his example, leaving back at the spot a very dejected blonde.

_Well, fuck._ He thought bitterly to himself as he tossed his rope to the ground. _I missed my chance._ And it was then when he wondered why he didn't retreat back into his room, he instead opting to continue watching the boy. He wonders why, but he doesn't regret it. Red eyes met with the blue eyes of the male faraway from him and a smile was shared between the two of them before the blonde's smile turned shy and flustered and he scampered off.

_Well damn, if a stranger is trying to get you out of this shit hole doesn't steel your resolve, I don't know what fucking will._

_

* * *

_Prussia was positive that not even a year had past and already his resolve was cracking. A quick peek at himself in the bathroom mirror told him differently though. _Shit…_ A translucent hand that couldn't quite stop quivering moved up to his face. The skin around his eyes was dark and puffy, standing out amongst his pale complexion. He hasn't been missing that much sleep has he? His skin felt cold and clammy against his palm as he dragged it down his cheeks. _Shit… don't tell me I'm getting near the point of no return…_ One blink and the man in the mirror disappeared. _Fuck, I'm already well past it…_

He couldn't stop himself from laughing.

A sharp knocking on the locked door stopped the humorless laughter though. "Mr. Prussia?" A hushed voice questioned through the thick wood. "Your break is over…"

His mind went blank at the mentioning of him having a 'break.' When was this break? When did he start getting one? This is a break? _... Apparently it is._ "Thanks for telling me Lithuania… I'll be out in a minute." He answered, his voice raspy and hoarse from the long periods he spent alone. Prussia could almost see the professional nod being sent his way and he listened to the footsteps of the other nation walking away.

The door slowly opened and he poked his head out, checking both directions for Russia before making a dash for his room. He can't remember the times when he longed for the feeling of being out in the open, he can only remember the feeling of pounding fear at being caught as he strode back to his cell.

"Oh! Gilbert! It's been awhile seen I've seen you, _da?_"

The presence of the person behind him was enough to stop him in his tracks. The sound of that deceptively sweet voice was enough to send a fresh course of adrenaline and fear through his body. But the sound of _his_ name, his _name_ being called so casually by somebody like him… it made his blood _boil._

"Do _not_ call me by my name. You are no friend of mine. You have no right to call me by that. The only name you can call me is Prussia. Prussia, got it?"

The difference between Gilbert and Prussia, he wasn't going to let Russia pass it.

The albino did not wait for the Russian's answer. He marched off towards his room, body stiff and the adrenaline leaving him drained and with a pounding heart. He slammed the door shut behind him, before slumping down against it, pale hand clutching at his shirt willing for his heart to just calm down.

"I am so screwed…"

And it was then he heard a little chirp by the window and the sound of fluttering wings. Looking up, he could see the yellow bird perched on his windowsill, casually going about its business as if not having a care in the world. Prussia envied it. But the pained expression that was previously contorting his face disappeared, replaced by the look of absolute glee that flashed of remnants of what used to be the great Kingdom of Prussia.

"Gilbird!" He chided as he strode over to it. The bird seemed to stare at him quizzically, complete with a little tip of its fluffy head. "Took you damn long enough." He scolded, tugging free the container that was tied to its fat body (Seriously, how is Gilbird able to fly?) before prying it open and popping the letter out.

He shuffled over to his desk, whipping out the pen that he kept hidden away on his person. He sat down, reading the letter all the while. He never noticed Gilbird flying over to him and making a nice nest in his shaggy and unkempt hair.

Two or three hours later, Gilbird felt a strong flick to its side. In retaliation it pecked Gilbert's head. And gave off a rather satisfied cheep when said man yelped in pain. This went on for a few more minutes until Gilbert, totally fed up with the fact that the bird kept pecking the _same area_, grabbed it and quickly tied his letter to it. "I choose you, Gilbird! What will Gilbird use? Gilbird used Deliver! It was super effective!"

There was a blank pause when Gilbird just stared at Gilbert before pecking his finger and flying off.

Gilbert couldn't deny the sense of loneliness that overcame him. Because in the end, Gilbert is _human_ after all.

* * *

Gilbert always hated those days. Those days when his mentality and emotional capabilities are shattered, torn, burned, obliterated, _surpassed_. Today was one of those days. The man woke up in the middle of the night: tears pouring down his face, pajamas damp with his sweat, the bitter taste of loneliness in his mouth, no new letters from the blonde, and no Gilbird in sight.

He's not sure how many minutes have passed, but the tears are finally slowing down to a few stray drops. Vacant red eyes watch the moonlight pour in through the window, illuminating everything in this room. "Maybe I'll be able to get out of here someday…" He tells himself just to quell the unrest in his nerves, just to hear another voice. His eyes scan the room and he tells himself again, "I'll get out of here someday."

The tears start again.

It's a lie.

He knows it.

* * *

Gilbert won't admit it, but something deep inside him tells that maybe he fell in love with the adorable little blonde that's been keeping him company with the letters. But as soon as he thinks that, Prussia can't help, but think that maybe he just thinks that it's love. Maybe it really is just his human nature tricking him. Maybe it's just that lonely, just that sad, that it's willing to trick Gilbert into believing that he has fallen in love with the blonde who's name he doesn't even know.

The cute little blonde with those glasses. The cute little blonde with that curl. The cute little blonde with that bear. _That_ cute little blonde that sometimes sends up those treats he calls pancakes in that… odd bucket-lever contraption that Gilbert made. Gilbert likes talking to him. Scratch that, Gilbert loves talking to him.

The blonde's existence makes him feel as if all those lies he keeps telling himself could be true.

It started with a craving for those letters, but it soon evolved into something darker… a bit more sinister. It turned into an obsession, his only lifeline. The only thing keeping him sane and not trying to commit suicide by jumping out of the window to end this unrelenting wave of suffering and loneliness because he had something to look forward to each and every day, he wasn't completely alone.

A letter from somebody he barely knows.

A letter from somebody he cares about deeply.

Just how deeply?

He'll never know.

Though what he does know is that the blonde will never know his agony.

He won't let the kid know about how much he wanted to be able to hold him in his own arms, to swing him around and around, to go to the bar with his brother and get drunk, he's not letting the kid know how much he missed doing those silly things before they were ripped from him.

Is he envious of the kid?

Hell yeah. He wishes that he was that blonde, the one that is able to do whatever the hell he pleases without having to worry about being 'corrected' by the Russian. But wishing the blonde is in his position was an entirely different thing. Gilbert wouldn't wish it on anybody, not even Austria ("That pansy bastard" He mutters with some affection.) If Fate just doesn't want to go Prussia's way, than Gilbert is content to just watch the blonde from here because it gave him a tiny happiness for tomorrow.

* * *

Days and months have passed since Gilbert kind of admitted to himself that he held some form of _extreme_ affection for the blonde whose name… he still doesn't know. _Why have I never asked for his name?_ Gilbert wondered to himself as he taps the pen against his lip, waiting for Gilbird to show up with his daily dose of happy pills in the convenient shape of letters.

Then there was a shout accompanied by the sound of a woman screaming. Curious about the loud noise in what should be the quiet part of… well, Prussia's not too sure where he is actually. Is he in Russia or is he still home? Prussia shook his head to clear the thoughts, making his way over to the window and peering out, he was greeted with a sight that did not make him happy. Not one bit.

There was _his_ birdie being pushed around by those disgusting guards again. That irked him (It really irked him), but that wasn't what made him dash for his door; frantically slamming against it, anything to get the damn thing open. What sent him into this panic frenzy was the gun pointed to his birdie's back. A gun. The kind that go _bang bang_ and kill people.

Gilbert could hear the commotion below him, just down the stairs from the Baltic nations as they scrambled to see what was causing their 'guest' to make such racket. But they weren't getting here soon enough, that Gilbert could tell as he watched the guard leading the blonde away.

Crap. Was he going to have to jump out the window?

Frantic red eyes met with their opposites, eerily calm blue ones. For the first time in his life, he saw a real smile. Not a panic-stricken one that usually comes from the Baltic nations, not that creepy one that Russia keeps giving off to everybody, and not those half-assed smiles of his that he uses to get through the day. A real smile from the blonde and Gilbert watched as his mouth moved…

"_Au revoir_."

The blonde whose name he still doesn't know disappears from his sight and the _bang!_ keeps ringing in his ears, over and over and over again…

Living everyday in this state was agony, but Gilbert never cried like today.

* * *

_Your existence made me smile._

_Even with any fate, seeing you without your name…_

_I felt I restored a bright future._

_I can't call you._

_I can't chase you._

_I can't get out of here._

_I can't do anything._

_

* * *

_

Gilbert woke up in the middle of the night to the last letter he'll ever get from the blonde in his lap. He watched in silence as Gilbird hobbles and flutters about aimlessly in the dark before collapsing against the Prussian's chest as if it has no more strength to go on. Gilbert picks it up and places it back onto his hair. He opens the letter and begins to read:

_|Do you want some pancakes? I made some for you. I went with your suggestion and added a bit of whiskey into it. It tastes really funny, but it leaves my insides all tingly and fuzzy. I think I'm a lightweight. :] How are you doing with Russia? He's not hurting you is he? If he is, just tell me and I'll go beat him up. Or I can try… my nation isn't that big. I'm going to try and get you out tonight, but I don't know if I'll be able to do it. But I'm just telling you know, please keep fighting for a way out. If not for yourself, for me? I'll be seeing you outside those walls someday then._

_Goodbye. Je t'aime de tout mon cœur.|_

And just as he finished reading the last sentence (Mind working frantically trying to remember some of the French Francis tried to teach him), the door burst open and there stood the Sisters, the Baltic Nations, and Russia. Prussia spares a glance in their direction before quickly folding the letter and putting it away. He could feel a light pressure leave his head and Ukraine watches as the fluffy yellow bird flies off into the night.

"Russia." Prussia grinds out his voice crackly and rusty from underuse. Russia smiles innocently at him before trudging in, his shoes making loud thumping noises against the wood planks of the floor. Prussia warily eyes the odd formation that just appeared, realizing that he's trapped. The only way out being the window. And he's not ready to jump out to his death just yet. In the next five minutes maybe, but not yet.

He winces instinctively as Russia grips him hard on the arm and easily pulls him up and out of bed as if Prussia was a small toddler. The Russian smiles at his sister and tips his head to the side. "Is the other room ready, Ukraine?"

There was hesitation and fresh tears glittering in her eyes. "Uh… yu-ye… yes."

"_Отличная_."

Russia fixes Prussia with that smile of his and tugs him along to the door. "Come, yes? We have a new room for you. Far away where nobody is going to take you away from me." The absolutely childlike cheerfulness on his face sends chills down Prussia's back.

And then it clicked.

He fought for his freedom.

Kicking and cursing, scratching red marks onto pale skin as everybody gathered around to try and subdue him. He punched, he spat, he elbowed, he tried every clean and dirty move he knew to get those grabbing hands away from him.

"_Lassen Sie mich los_!" He hissed, punching away a face that got too close to his own. "_Ich habe ein Versprechen Ich brauche zu halten_!" He roared, kicking some poor unfortunate soul right in the place where the sun doesn't shine. "_Fich dick, Schwein!_" Were the last words that came out of his mouth as his blood boiled and all he could see was the color red.

Red here, red there, red everywhere. But amongst it all was a single flower blooming beautifully. He had to fight; he had to keep it there. It was all he had left. He wasn't about to let it die so damn easily.

Memories of the time he spent in captivity flashed through his mind. The joy and laughter he got from one simple letter. The pain and horror he felt as his people tried desperately to be reunited with their families. He can never have back the days where he was the awesome Kingdom of Prussia, conquer of all vital regions. He can never get back those days where he teased his little brother about that crush he had. He can never get back those few moments of happiness and hope when he saw Gilbird; tasted those divinely good pancakes.

In those last moments, right before he was about to be thrown into a new level of hell, he screamed out one last wish of his, "_Die große Preußen geht da raus! Ich werde mein Versprechen halten! _Just you fucking wait, Birdie!" It was going to be the one of the last things he is going to say in a long time, but he lives by it. He'll make sure of it.

Gilbert had one regret, and one regret only.

He just wanted to know one thing. He just wanted to know his lifeline's name.

* * *

Tonight was a brilliantly cold night: frost swirled in and out of his room, chilling him. He sat on his bed, wrapped up in layers and layers of clothing, a simple red scarf wrapped around his neck.

He bolted up in his bed a few minutes ago, excitement coursing through his veins like the Amazon River. The large grin that he woke up with hurting him. As much as he tried, the smile wouldn't disappear until he slapped himself _hard_ on the face. He was pretty sure there was his handprint left on.

As Gilbert clambered out of the bed, the whole entire room was lit up. Squinting against the brightness, he could see a tall silhouette of a man with a long and thick scarf wrapped around his neck. He took a cautious step backwards as Russia stepped farther into the room. He made no move, only warily watching the bigger man, as Russia sat down onto the bed.

"Thursday, November 9th, 1989…" He hummed out, the smile on his face not giving anything away. Ivan watches the Gilbert for a minute before reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. Whether he noticed the smaller male wincing or not, Ivan didn't show any signs of it. "Remember this day Prussia."

Gilbert stared blankly at him.

"Today is the day you can go back to the world."

If you asked both men if Prussia cried that day when he heard the news, the two would say the same thing, "No. No Prussia did not cry… Gilbert on the other hand though…"

* * *

It was November 10th when Gilbert packed up the few things that he wanted to bring with him (His clothes, the letters, and his parting gifts from the Baltics and Ukraine) and took one of the greatest turning points in his life. He stepped out of the confinement that has been holding him captive for twenty-eight long years and stumbled into the sunlight.

And then promptly hitchhiked a ride with a small family to the Berlin Wall.

And they drove for long hours, fighting through long traffic hours to make it to the Berlin Wall with a few minutes to spare until midnight. The sight that he knew was coming still baffled him. It was too good to be true, it was too good to be true, and yet it was true. People were everywhere (Some in the trees, signs, buildings, etc.), cheering and clapping as they celebrated this joyous night.

Getting out the car as quick as he could without making an utter fool of himself out of his blinding excitement, Gilbert pushed his way through the crowds. He was only faintly aware of the chirping of Gilbird from where it pranced about on his head. The only sound he could hear was the heavenly buzzing and grinding noise of heavy machines punching holes in the wall.

And closer and closer to the wall he went, guided by a tugging at his chest that told him something good was going to happen, something drastic and beautiful. And so onward he plowed, stumbling through crowds, pushing and shoving, exchanging hugs with complete strangers until he stumbled through the crowd and was smashed against the wall itself.

Sure it hurt like a bitch, but he was pretty damn happy it happened. If it didn't, he never would have noticed that narrow hole where an icy blue gaze was peering through. _Is that…?_ "W-West!?"

"_Bruder, bist du das?!_"

He had never been happier to hear his brother's voice. And he watched as his brother's hand reached through the barrier for Gilbert's own hand. Instead of shaking Ludwig's hand, Gilbert knelt down and spat into it. He burst into his hissing laughter when the hand disappeared as quickly as it appeared and a rather unmanly yelp was heard.

"Gilbert! That was disgusting! Why did you do that!?"

A long crack ran across the wall.

"Man… West… you'll never know how much I missed annoying your ass…"

It's crumbling, the wall is crumbling.

"Wow, _danke bruder._" Ludwig responded, rolling his eyes as he wiped the spit off onto his clothes.

Gilbert smiled, fingers reaching to grip his brother's hand as he listened to the machines drilling away the last slab, to the cheering of both their people, and to Beethoven's ninth symphony that played off in the background, barely heard above the cheering: _Alle Menschen werden Bruder_.

_Sie hören, dass Birdie? Ich hielt mein Versprechen._


	2. Notes

Onto the long notes! I think I got everything...

**Beginning**

The toilet paper and blankets rope was a MythBusters reference. They tried out a myth about using bed sheets to climb out of a prison and they also tried using toilet paper. The toilet paper rope was surprisingly sturdy.

Prussia watching Canada from his window reminds me of Rapunzel or something. 8D

"Well damn, if a stranger is trying to get you out of this shit hole doesn't steel your resolve, I don't know what fucking will." – It's kind of… ironic in the sense that well, Gilbert's resolve dies as the story progresses even though Canada is trying to help him out.

"One blink and the man in the mirror disappeared." – Before Prussia looked at himself in the mirror, he thought of himself as the Kingdom of Prussia, THE INVINCIBLE KINGDOM OF PRUSSIA. But when he acknowledges the fact that he's not doing so hot, that image from his mind disappeared. That's the symbolic meaning. The literal is that he's hallucinating and saw his reflection disappear. 8'D

There's a difference between Gilbert and Prussia. Or at least I think there is. Gilbert would resemble the more human side of a nation (The people, their thoughts and feelings, etc.) while Prussia represents the actual nation (Economy, politics, etc.) I think that when a nation gets closer to another nation (Beyond diplomatic relationships), then it is appropriate to use the human names.

Gilbird is his hope and his will to keep being himself. But living with Russia has been pretty taxing on him and so that is why Gilbird is fat. Gilbird is at a disadvantage, but he still keeps delivering the letters. Gilbert is at a disadvantage, but his will and to keep being himself overruns that disadvantage.

"Seriously, how can Gilbird fly?" – How can Gilbert keep being himself when he's been living isolated with Russia for so long? It's a mystery, but both are still able to do it.

"I choose you, Gilbird! What will Gilbird use? Gilbird used Deliver! It was super effective!" – Pokémon. Duh.

"Gilbert couldn't deny the sense of loneliness that overcame him. Because in the end, Gilbert is _human_ after all." – Some people believe that being lonely is part of human nature. Gilbert is the human side of Prussia.

"Why have I never asked for his name?" – You don't need to know somebody's name to become friends with them. 3 But it's social norms to ask for somebody's name.

"The blonde whose name he still doesn't know disappears from his sight and the _bang!_ keeps ringing in his ears, over and over and over again..." – Life is Beautiful reference. It's a wonderful movie (My absolute favorite). GO WATCH IT. NOW. SERIOUSLY. This is a double reference; it also refers to the Prisoner PV. It took place sometime during the Holocaust (Fan speculation) and so does Life is Beautiful.

Keep in mind that Gilbird is pretty much Gilbert's emotional state.

I never mentioned Matthew's name or his nation's name because well… Gilbert never learned it.

**End**


End file.
